


the world is beating you down

by soofyahn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Body Image, Established Relationship, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, but zayn is a good boyfriend so it's ok, inspired by that thing that happened on twitter 3 months ago, literally the only things i ever post are established relationship drabbles, mentions of bullying, rude twitter people, sorry i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soofyahn/pseuds/soofyahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Liam is not cool, or confident, or charming. He’s never been able to attain that effortlessness and could never embrace his insecurities in the right way, like Zayn or even Harry, always opting for the mask of the stage or the overpriced clothes he somehow ends up wearing or one (or two or three or four) too many drinks.<i></i></i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the world is beating you down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [consigliore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consigliore/gifts).



> so like back in march when people were being rude as hell to liam on twitter it made me upset and chrissy wanted a fic where zayn worships liam's body and reminds him how lovely he is but then i never finished it because i'm rude except i just now finished it so i figured hey, better late than never. i'm sure i could've done a lot more with it but it's a thing, and it's complete, and i'm content.
> 
> john legend's all of me is like totally a ziam song by the way and when i was reading this over i was reminded of that song over and over again so title credit to that ridiculously sappy song. 
> 
> ok also sorry for this. it's just fluff. it's like literally nothing but a little bit of sadness and then a whole lotta fluff. i'm sorry. i'll do better next time.

It hasn’t been a thing for a while, honestly, so there’s no reason for Liam to be acting like this.

He’s being somewhat childish, even. He feels like throwing a fit and kicking his feet and crying, kind of, because it’s just – it isn’t _fair_.

He’s just so fucking tired of it all. Liam thought his days of being bullied were far, far behind him.

The reason Liam looks on his phone and his computer and scrolls through his mentions on twitter all of the time is because sometimes the fans are funny, cheeky, kind, even. They send him well wishes and thank him (even though he hasn’t _done_ anything, not like they have) and it’s usually a good thing, or at least sometimes it is, and he sends out a few replies to make a few fans’ days but. Today was not like that.

The thing about the internet, or maybe just being in the public eye in general, is that people are sometimes cruel and it feels like a stab in the gut, the suddenness and excessiveness of their cruelty. It’s always the most biting comments, always the things him and the boys are already insecure about and trying to deflect attention away from, and – god. It’s fucking with his head, honestly.

And Liam knows he should take it in stride, like everything else, because his life is filled with so many unfathomable, wonderful things, and he just really needs to focus on the good right now, because there’s so many positive things and people and experiences he gets to have, and if he spends his time pouting about bullies on the internet, he’s really got his priorities out of whack.

He knows this, he does. Liam’s a fairly logical guy. He thinks things through for the most part, and before, he did this to paralyzing extents – so much that it gave him a building sense of anxiety after he’d spent his time worrying over all of the potential possibilities that he’d end up not doing anything at all. He’s learning not to be like that anymore, though. Zayn (and the other boys, of course) is good about reminding him not to worry, things will work out, they’ll be just fine. He’ll rub his shoulders and smile an easy smile that makes Liam give in to being laid-back for once.

Intoxicated Liam, however, tends to act like he has rocks for brains, acting entirely on impulse; from standing on buildings to nearly outing himself to the entire world via twitter. But that’s another issue entirely.

Liam’s spent the last few years of his life building himself, much like the others. They started out as a group of rowdy boys with bad haircuts with a common passion for singing, and they learned an awful lot over the last few years about themselves. Liam took his years of bullying and let it shape out his shoulders and add strength to his jaw and mask any uncertainty with a faux-confidence he learned to perfect as soon as he’d taken to the stage. He’d gotten quite good at the whole confidence thing, actually, because people started feeding compliments to him and it was easy to let those things sink into his skin and lift him up for a little while, cracking jokes like he was king of the world. It was easy to slide a smile on his face while girls cried over him and he was getting free drinks every time he went to a club, but then – then there was Zayn.

Zayn, unfortunately, was always able to see Liam’s frown anytime he was met with a mirror, the uncertainty in his eyes every time he tried out a new haircut, the dejected sigh he gave when he’d fucked up his part in the song. Zayn was perceptive like that, in ways that the other boys have never been, meaning that he was always the first to call Liam out on his behavior, pulling him aside and trying to comfort him, but ending up making Liam feel humiliated that this type of self-esteem building was even necessary at all.

After the two of them got together – and Liam feels weird using that phrasing, because it feels a lot more monumental than simply “getting together” – Zayn’s perceptions were only maximized and it was weird having someone be able to read him like a book all of the time. Even so, Zayn still probably doesn’t know the extent of Liam’s issues, doesn’t realize that each biting comment has always been another bullet to his quickly deteriorating shield that he built for himself over the years.

Despite this, Liam knew he wasn’t all bad. He really liked talking to people, and he really liked going to clubs and, before Zayn, flirting with strangers whether they acted like they knew who he was or not. After he and Zayn got together, he found a sense of pride in the things he could make Zayn do, from earning a whine in the back of his throat during a heated kiss to the way he’d pant Liam’s name so breathlessly and feverishly. And Liam loved performing, of course; undertaking a different kind of mask under the lights and heat with four other boys at his side, having a laugh and tumbling on the stage and feeling powerful with a crowd of people yelling his own lyrics back at him.

It was just…the physical things, maybe, that got to him the very most. He was pretty sure out of the four of them he was the least attractive, but it’s not like, a jealous thing. He knows he can sing and he knows they’re all important members of the band and whatever, that’s fine. It’s not anything he’s genuinely concerned about, just something he’s aware of, something he knows simply as fact. They’ve all got the different things they bring to the band, he guesses. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the charm of Harry and isn’t as likeable as Niall and doesn’t have the wit of Louis, and Zayn…well, dating Zayn is just as thrilling as it is embarrassing.

The thing about Zayn is that he’s had a quiet confidence from the very start, a carelessness in the shrug of his shoulders or the smirk that plays on his lips. Any of that awkwardness Liam saw during boot camp kind of vanished after he’d gotten through the dancing bit, and even since, he’s embraced his insecurities and now he freely shakes his hips with dramatic flair and coy smile on his lips. He wears his confidence in the bore of his eyes and the way he fucking owns whatever clothing happens to grace his shoulders, hug his thighs; the way he tosses a beanie over messy hair before going out for a smoke or struts around in drag for a music video and still has that ever-present smirk and dark gaze. Liam can hardly even pull off any of the clothes in his own wardrobe himself and Zayn somehow carelessly throws on one of Liam’s wrinkled shirts taken from his luggage and still manages to look comparable to a Greek god.

It’s a little embarrassing, sometimes, just to be standing in Zayn’s presence when he’s as perfect as he is, licking his lips obscenely during an interview or as he saunters across the stage towards Liam, fucking owning it when he belts out the leads or slides over harmonies. Even though Liam’s had years of training, has practiced breathes and perfect pitch (if he says so himself) – he still can’t manage to look as damned cool as Zayn while he does it, which is nearly as valuable as the trade itself.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Zayn is just so fucking _cool_ , in a way that Liam always imagined himself being like when he was younger and too discontent with the bullies and the mocking of the current moment. Young Liam would be awfully disappointed that the coolest thing he’s ever worn at twenty-one is a full-body realistic batman costume for Halloween.

Actually, in reality he’d probably be thrilled, but that kind of emphasizes the original point.

Liam is not cool, or confident, or charming. He’s never been able to attain that effortlessness and could never embrace his insecurities in the right way, like Zayn or even Harry, always opting for the mask of the stage or the overpriced clothes he somehow ends up wearing or one (or two or three or four) too many drinks.

He’s just kind of geeky and doesn’t really do anything other than this singing thing, while the others have hobbies and talents and mountains of other redeeming qualities, which makes Liam feel kind of sheepish because the only thing he’s really ever been able to do is sing.

Sticking to what he knows has always been his best bet, though, and here he is, some odd years later, finding his faux-confidence in practiced breathes and perfecting his intonation and falsettos.

One thing that Liam has focused on in order to mask his insecurities, something to fight the demons of his past, is his physique. He’d taken to the gym years ago, but he’s been really going at it lately, it becoming more of an obsession than ever. It was nice, having his body agree with him, having power over the firmness of his arms and the ridges of his abdomen. Dedicating hours of work and focus and effort was nice when it wasn’t his career, when it wasn’t millions of people watching him pour his all into something. They got to see the results, though, and that response was sometimes nice. He remembers the first morning he’d slipped on a tank top before a show, back when he and Zayn were still dancing around each other, and he watched Zayn do a double-take the first time they’d crossed paths.

“Whoa, man,” Zayn had said, eyebrows raised as he took him in. Liam blushed under the attention, rubbing his neck. “You look like the fuckin’ Hulk.”

And it was the Hulk comment – maybe because he was Zayn’s favorite, maybe just because the Hulk was fucking awesome – that gave him even more motivation to keep it up. He became even more dedicated and strict about his dieting and the boys had made fun of him, but he didn’t care. This is where he found his confidence, this is where he was content and sure of himself, in his sweat and after he’d worked himself into total exhaustion.

Even more, Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he’d taken off his shirt one night on the bus, like he’d never seem Liam half-naked before.

“Jesus, fuck,” Harry had said. “Remind me not to joke about your rabbit food anymore.”

Liam had chuckled and ducked his head, feeling like Harry was being ridiculous but not minding the comments all the same.

“Seriously,” Harry said, shaking his head at him. “I’d advise against strutting around shirtless all nonchalantly like that ‘round Zayn. He might melt on the spot.”

“What?” Liam had blinked at him dumbly, missing what he’d meant entirely, but Harry was already folding himself into his bunk.

“Oh, never mind me,” he’d said coyly, smiling as he rested his cell phone on his chest and pulled the curtain of his bunk closed, ending the conversation.

Liam had been pretty dense like that, back then.

Somewhere between him becoming so serious about his workout regimen and changing haircuts a few times and, of course, kissing Zayn after a show one night and landing a boyfriend a few nights later, Liam started noticing the comments weren’t just from the boys (and after a while, namely Zayn, who demanded him to be shirtless in his presence whenever the situation allowed). Liam was seeing it on the internet and on the television, and after the mess and chaos that was Australia, it became sort of a thing, his physique, and it made him feel pretty damned suave in a way that he wasn’t using to feeling. People were saying things, on the television and on blogs online written in the way he normally sees about the other boys but it was actually _his_ name being talked about, gushed as a ‘dreamboat’ with a ‘rockin’ bod.’

It was a little weird, because hearing these things come out of Zayn’s mouth was strange and exciting all in itself, but these were – these were _strangers_ , people who knew so little about him, people who could easily say something rude if they felt like it, but – they weren’t. They were complimenting him endlessly and Zayn was making him feel so goddamn loved all of the time and it was like for a little while he couldn’t hear any of the old remarks that had haunted him for years, the bullies of his childhood laughing in his face and calling his names like mean kids always do. It was like he could look in the mirror and be like, _okay, so my eyebrows are bushy and my hair isn’t really doing what I want it to do and I’m not blessed with thick, dark eyelashes but I’ve got a nice body, a body I’ve worked for, and I’m doing alright today._

Yet somehow, miraculously, with the worst timing in all of the world, here it is again, except now his bully is hidden by a nearly anonymous twitter handle, making fun of him for his appearance. His weight.

He thought – he thought. Well. Liam thought a lot of things.

And it’s not just one. It’s - it’s quite a few of them, honestly. Maybe it’s a joke, Liam considers. Maybe it’s just, like, a thing they’re doing right now. It must be opposite day, or something, because he’s going to the gym more than ever and he’s fled far, far, _far_ away from the chubby boy he used to be in school.

After a while of scrolling it becomes clear that it’s not a joke at all, really.

It makes him angry, is the thing, because he knows it’s not reality. He’s not delusional, he knows that he’s _not_ fat, he’s just – it’s just a weird confidence thing that he’s always had and. It still bothers him. The comments get under his skin and it makes him start questioning himself all over again and he’s not sure what to do about it.

He posts a few cheeky comments and tries to let it be the end of it, because honestly, these strangers on the internet don’t know what they’re saying and he’s trying to make light of it, trying to joke and be sarcastic and act like it doesn’t bother him.

Liam pushes his palms to his eye sockets until he sees stars, and swears he hears a ringing in his ears.

It bothers him.

And Zayn, of course, as he always does, is the first to see through his charade.

“You alright, babe?” Zayn asks after rehearsals the next day. He doesn’t come over and wrap Liam up in a hug, his back pressed up against the closed door like he’s afraid Liam is a time bomb that might explode any moment.

He feels like it, even though he’d never lash out at Zayn, especially for something as stupid as this.

“Hm?” Liam looks up, broken from his trance. He’s been staring out the window of their hotel room for several minutes now, he’s sure. Alone with his thoughts.

It’s always a dangerous thing, when Liam does that.

Zayn pauses a moment before clarifying. “I saw, like, the whole thing on twitter. I was just.” He looks down at his shoes, looking strangely sheepish. “Y’know, making sure you’re alright?”

Liam blinks at him for a moment, because Louis had made a snarky comment and rolled his eyes about the whole situation, Niall had whined about wanting McDonald’s now, and Harry had laughed at the both of them, and – and Zayn, of course, is here.

Liam’s ridiculously lucky, is the thing, to have such a beautiful boy that cares about him so relentlessly.

“I guess,” is Liam’s reply. He feels impossibly stupid about the entire situation, and he doesn’t want to bother Zayn about it, but he’s always had this thing with Zayn that prevented him from wearing that carefully crafted mask.

“Hey,” Zayn stops, and he’s crossed the room now. Liam tries to focus on Zayn’s eyes and the way they ground him. “You’re – you’re gorgeous, you know that.”

Liam snorts and Zayn narrows his eyes.

“Liam. You’re _beautiful_ ,” he tells him, and Liam feels himself shake his own head the slightest bit. “All of you. I’m not lyin’ when I tell you that, and neither is anyone else, yeah?”

Zayn looks so serious, and he’s running his thumb across the inside of Liam’s wrist, and he feels safe right now. He knows he can be vulnerable around Zayn.

“No – no, yeah, I mean,” Liam starts, then stops. He takes a breath, closing his eyes. “I just – sometimes people just get to me. All the - it’s like – I mean. Whatever. It’s nothing.”

He’s kind of terrible at the vulnerability thing, as it turns out.

“It’s like what?” Zayn prompts, tilting his head, as patient as ever. He reaches out and curls his hand around Liam’s wrist.

The thing is, he looks so fucking genuine and interested in what Liam has to say that it makes it difficult for Liam to try to filter his thoughts. It’s easy when someone looks bored with what you have to say, or prefers to talk about themselves, but when someone’s got their wide, dark eyes hooked on yours and seem to be pulling each of your thoughts out one by one, it makes it kind of difficult.

He can be vulnerable around Zayn, he tells himself again. Zayn loves him and has been with him this entire time and – yeah. He can do this.

“It’s not a big deal. I – It’s like I’m not good enough, yeah?” Liam feels himself grow red at the admission, but he keeps his eyes trained on the floor. “Like, I feel like I try pretty damned hard most days and I just let myself down and – and I doubt myself, and then people just kind of reinforce that I’m a failure and I’m. I’m not fuckin’ suave or cool or charming to make up for it, like you, I’m just – I’m whatever I am, and it’s. Whatever. I dunno.”

Zayn pulls Liam forward, his other hand coming up around Liam’s cheek. “ _Liam._ Listen to me – no.”

Liam tries to amend, “I’m sorry, just forget I – “

“ _No._ You’re – you’re perfect,” Zayn says, cutting him off. “You’re – like, do you even realize?”

“Realize what?” Liam says, feeling like he’s in a daze, in some vivid daydream, somewhere distant from here.

Zayn half-chuckles, and shakes his head. “You’re like, incredible, Liam. Honestly, I’m in shock half of the time because you’re so fucking amazing, like.”

"'M not all that great," Liam says quietly and breaks his gaze from Zayn. He sighs somewhat dejectedly. "Don't know what you see in me sometimes, is all."

It’s one thing for these feelings to plague his mind over the last few years, but it's another to put it all out in the open. It's a strange secret he's kept, one that he’s carefully unfolding for Zayn to see, to run his fingers over the creases of and realize how phony Liam really is.

"Liam," Zayn says, and when he meets his eyes, his eyebrows are furrowed like Liam's done something wrong, something shameful.

Liam feels like that. He feels like he fucked up, telling Zayn all of this, because of course it will upset him, of course it will make him worry about him and it’ll be this whole conversation and it really shouldn’t have to be this way, honestly, because they all get these kinds of comments. It's just, with him in particular, he can never deal with it properly. He can’t just turn off his phone or make a joke out of it and roll his eyes, claim that he’s done with the whole situation. He lashes out, or, worse, he bottles it up and lets the comments ring in his ears every time he's met with a mirror.

"I'm sorry, babe, I shouldn't have - " he tries to say, but Zayn cuts him off.

"I can't let you go around thinking like that." Zayn moves in closer to Liam, and he can feel himself taking a step back. Zayn’s hands drop, and Liam winces at his own actions. "Liam?"

"It's - honestly, forget about it. I don't need - no. It's just - everyone's got something to say, yeah?" Liam smiles despite himself. "It's cool. I'll get over it. Don't worry about me."

"I worry about you all the time," Zayn says with a frown, looking deeply conflicted.

Liam should really learn how to properly suffer in silence. It’d save him and everyone else a whole mess of trouble.

"Don't, yeah? We'll be alright," Liam says, and reaches out for Zayn. He tries smiling again. "Yeah?"

Zayn hesitates for a moment, looking at Liam with these wide eyes that make Liam feel impossibly small. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be bothered by some people on the internet, and he definitely didn't want Zayn to be worried about Liam.

Zayn eventually moves forward and catches Liam's hand in his, but he doesn't return the smile. He steps closer and noses at Liam's neck, and Liam smiles even wider as he puts his arm around Zayn's back.

"How'd I ever manage someone as beautiful as you?" Liam says into Zayn's ear, and then –

" _No_." Zayn is out of his arms and Liam feels his heart drop.

“What did I do now?” Liam says a little brokenly. He pulls at his hair, feeling fucking useless, feeling fucking absurd for the way that he’s feeling, and for dragging Zayn down with him.

Zayn shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. "Liam – listen, you can't do that to yourself anymore. I won't let you."

He looks proper upset now and Liam frowns deeply. He's not sure how he keeps fucking everything up so fantastically.

"I'm not doing anything," Liam mumbles to the ground, his arms feeling cold with Zayn's presence ripped from them so suddenly.

" _You_ are beautiful," Zayn says, and touches Liam again, his cheek. Liam leans into the touch this time. "You don't have me because you're lucky or whatever bullshit you're making yourself believe, alright? You have me because you wanted me, and I wanted you right back."

He's moving closer to Liam now, grabbing him by the sides of his face as he speaks. "You're perfect, Liam.  Your mind and your smile and - ," he runs his hands down Liam's front, " - your body."

"Zayn," he says with a sigh, biting his lip.

"Shh," Zayn tells him, flicking his eyes up to meet Liam's before meeting his lips to Liam's neck. "You're so, so beautiful," he says to Liam's skin, pressing a soft kiss to it. "I love every part of you. It's all perfect and worth all of the attention in the world, alright?"

Liam lets his eyes fall shut, and tries very hard to let the words Zayn is saying sink into his soul, make their home inside his bones. "Alright," he says softly, giving in, and Zayn smile against his neck.

It kind of makes Liam's head spin, how wonderful Zayn is and how much he cares about him and the way they make each other feel. Sometimes it’s like he forgets that Zayn is in love with him as much as Liam is with him.

"Good boy," Zayn says right into Liam's ear, and Liam flushes. "Now, let me worship every part of your body like a good boyfriend does, yeah?"

Liam nods dumbly, and Zayn lets his hands roam over his clothed body freely.

"You've got the nicest arms," Zayn muses, lifting Liam's wrist and kissing the inside of it. He presses kisses up his arm and Liam watches him, the way his lips work over his skin. "I love how much power they give you," he says at the crook of Liam's elbow. "Yet you hold me so gently, like I might break on you."

Zayn’s lips turn up at the corners, shaking his head softly before continuing. "I love how careful you are with me, though. But I don't think I'm careful enough with you, sometimes."

He presses a soft kiss to the curve of Liam's bicep before moving up, looking up at him with a slight frown.

"I'm sorry I forget to do this," he tells Liam, curling their fingers together and bringing his other hand up to bring Liam closer by the back of his neck. "It's really important that you know these things."

"I love you," Liam says because his heart is swelling with it, how much he loves and adores and cares for this boy. It hits him like a freight train in the most fleeting moments, standing on stage or making a joke during an interview that makes Zayn smile or watching him style his hair in the mirror. It's this avalanche of emotion that collapses on top of him and he can't feel anything except _this_ and. It’s a lot.

It’s brilliant, though. He’s so glad he gets to have this.

Zayn smiles, and Liam wishes he could paint or draw because he’d love to recreate the curve of his lips in ink or on canvas.

"I love _you,”_ Zayn counters, bringing their foreheads together. "Now...take your shirt off."

Even though he's taken his shirt off in front of Zayn countless times, even before they were together, Liam still blushes at the request. Zayn moves away from him and when Liam tugs his t-shirt over his head, he moves Liam backwards to fall on the bed.

Liam does so willingly, because he always finds himself blindly following Zayn. Zayn looks down at him a moment, seemingly admiring the view, before, straddling his waist and, of course, taking his lips to Liam’s body.

He bites his lip at the rush of affection, the words Zayn's murmuring between kisses. "Beautiful...perfect...so, so lovely..."

And Liam squirms under this kind of attention, because this is a whole new level of intimacy. This is Liam vulnerable, and - and Zayn is just going with it, somehow, taking away Liam's insecurities with every adoring word and press to his skin.

"Calm down," Zayn says with his lips above Liam's collarbone. "You're acting like a blushing virgin, Li."

"God," Liam breathes out, laughing. "This is just...a lot to take in."

"You're perfect," Zayn says, as if that's a relevant response. "Just relax, babe."

"Okay," Liam says, feeling kind of dumb but going with it anyway.

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate you," Zayn says and punctuates the thought with a bruising kiss to Liam's collarbone. "All of you," he adds, his tongue moving over the spot.

Liam feels kind of paralyzed, but it’s a nice feeling, Zayn being so overwhelming and insistent in his affection and Liam just lies there and takes it in.

Zayn moves over Liam’s body with practice, fingers sliding over the ridges of muscle and dancing along his collarbones, moving him however he wants him and letting out strings of compliments that leave Liam giggling and panting and smiling, giving the words the power to sink deeper than his skin, all the way down to his bones.

And Liam thinks that he knows Zayn as an honest person, a remarkable boy who is fiercely protective over his loved ones and unyielding in his beliefs and never apologizes for the way he feels. Liam thinks that Zayn has thought these things about him for a while, because he’s told him before that he has, and it’s nice to hear them now, right when he needs it, right when it matters.

“I love you,” Liam says, his hand coming up behind Zayn’s head and bringing him close, their noses grazing. He feels impossibly everything, all at once. It’s almost too much.

“You’re so, so gorgeous, and perfect, and more than enough,” Zayn tells him, tilting his head to kiss the side of Liam’s jaw. “Do you believe it?”

He’s looking at Liam expectantly, his hands enclosed around Liam’s arms and his knees bracketed Liam’s hips, and he quite likes their bodies together. It might just be his favorite thing.

He likes everything about them together, he realizes, the sound of their laughs harmonizing and how their lips fit together and the shades of their skin, the way their clothes fit on each other, especially the way they wear each other’s love and affection like a favorite sweater, blushing cheeks and stupidly happy giggles all of the time.

“I – “ he starts to say, but Zayn cuts him off.

“Shh,” Zayn says, shaking his head, apparently not interested in what Liam had to say. “Answer me. Do you?”

And when he thinks about it, the way Zayn dotes on him and laughs at his terrible jokes, nods along with him no matter whatever bullshit he’s spewing, runs his fingers through his hair when he’s tired, still somehow gawks at him like he’s some sort of runway model when he’s looking for a shirt in the morning, it’s kind of impossible not to.

“Yes,” he says, and feels himself smile. “Yeah. I really do, Zayn.”

Zayn looks positively ecstatic, eyes bright and biting his tongue between his teeth. “Fuck yeah, you do.”

He’s kissing him again, feeling forever grateful for this silly, wonderful, improbably wonderful boy and the love he has for him, and Liam knows certainly that if he can see all of these incredible things in him, it must count for something.

“Thank you,” Liam says softly, pulling away and holding Zayn by the back of the neck.

Zayn rolls his eyes, leaning back a bit. “Don’t thank me, you idiot. Only helped you understand what I knew all along.”

“Oh, whatever,” Liam says, but he’s giggling, feeling entirely elated, more blissful than he’d had after that first kiss they’d shared all those months ago, all sweaty from their show and high on the crowd. “You think you’re so smart.”

“Eh, only ‘cause I am,” he says, leaning down to bite Liam’s earlobe. Liam hisses unintentionally, only slightly embarrassing himself, and Zayn just grins against his cheek.

 

**Author's Note:**

> and because i forgot to do this last time, follow me on [tumblr](http://soofyahn.tumblr.com) because i like to cry about ziam there and talk to people.


End file.
